there's a little room
with a round door
in the back of my heart
with a view of the ocean
it's here where i find myself
forgiving everyone and everything

the floorboards are worn smooth
from all my returning
i pass through corridors
where conversations
circle like trapped birds

but here, in this back room
there is only morning light
on bare wood, and a single chair
where i sit and watch waves
erase themselves over and over

sometimes i stay until sunset
when the water turns to copper
i know i'll leave again
dissolving into the sweet
clutter of being human,
my heart a crowded kitchen

but the door stays there
round like a full moon
waiting, and the waves
keep writing their one word
over and over: return

When you're in the subterranean chamber
That must be quite the feeling
In that tiny bubble
Just above the ceiling
grows a hillock
O the local limestone
A hundred foot above
Topped by more o the same
Blocks two and a haf million strong
Times approx two and a haf ton per block
Could be six million ton all told.

I'd **** me self.